


Breakable

by Whistle_Mist



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Broken Heart Syndrome, Brothers, Depression, Gen, loss of a loved one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 22:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whistle_Mist/pseuds/Whistle_Mist
Summary: Broken Heart Syndrome





	Breakable

Walking into the room Damian paused. Scrunching up his nose he walked over to the bed looking at the lump there. With a scowl, he walked over to the window yanking the curtains open. Unlocking the window he turned off the extra security measures before pushing the window opened. 

Fresh air came in, cool from the fall season. 

Looking back at the bed he walked over. “Drake.” 

“No…” 

“You need to get up,” Damain demanded, the pulled the larger comforter off the other, the nineteen-year-old looked worse than the last time he saw him. “You cannot stay here forever.” 

“Yes, I can,” Tim reached back to pull the comforter back on him. “Go away, I’m trying to sleep,” 

“You’ve been sleeping for almost three weeks,” Pulling the thing back off he tossed it away from the bed. “You are getting up. I promised Pennyworth that I would bring you downstairs, 

“I’m tired…” Tim pulled his pillow over his head. “Just let me sleep,” 

“I think not,” Damain reached over pulling the pillow up. “I’ve had enough of this! You are getting up!” 

“Wha- No! Let me go!” Tim yelled as he was yanked up and tossed up in a trick roll that had him draped across Damain’s shoulders. “Let me down, you freakily tall sixteen teenagers!” 

“I shall in a moment!” Damian went to the bathroom, pushing the door opened before setting him down. “Go shower! You stink!” 

I’m going back to bed,” Tim tried to move around the now taller Robin only to be stopped. He rubbed his face feeling sick. “Move, Damian,” 

“If you do not get in that shower, I will wash you down myself,” Damian warned. “Or do you wish to repeat your sleep-deprived week where you went delusional and though the shower was going to eat you?” 

“You swore never to talk about that again!” 

“Get. In. The. Shower.” 

Letting out a small frustrated sound Tim closed the door before going to the sink. He didn’t have to lock the door. Damian would have picked it easily if he did. Looking at the miriror he leaned closer. 

Even though he had been sleeping for weeks on and off the dark circles seemed larger, his skin desperately needed sunlight and the lack of vitamin D was clear. He was losing wight he thinks. Yep, his muscles weren't as tight as they should be. 

Looking down at his hands he thought for a second he should go do a work out routine but as soon as that thought entered his mind it was gone. What was the point? He didn’t even want to shower let alone work out.

“I do not hear the water,” 

“I’m getting to it,” Tim called. “I can shower by myself,” 

“Last time you went back to bed. Get in,” Damain called. “Do you want to eat in your room or do I tell Pennyworth you will be joining us for lunch?” 

“I’m not hungry,” 

“That’s not an answer,” 

“I’m not hungry!” 

“Still not an answer!” 

“Fine, I’ll eat in my room!” 

“Very well, I shall go tell him. If the water’s not on when I come back, I’ll break-in,” 

“Damnit,” Rubbing his face Tim sighed. “Fine! Just go away!” 

“I’ll be back, do not think you are getting out of bathing,” 

\--

A short while later Damain returned to the room setting down a tray. It had a simple lunch, sandwiches, and soups. Walking over to the bathroom he knocked. When no one answered he leaned his ear against the door. 

The sound of water from the shower running. Moving back he went to the desk in the room and decided that’d he would eat his food. He ate his food in less than fifteen minutes. As the minutes ticked by he started to scroll through his media while waiting. 

Normally he wouldn’t be waiting, however, he promised both Pennyworth and his Father that’d he’d at least try to help snap Drake out of it. Whatever it was, he wasn’t too sure. It seemed like depression, however, the extra symptoms that Drake claimed to be having were not common in it. 

Maybe it was depression or something else. 

Ever since Kent died a nearly a month ago Drake had been like this. Which he would admit was a shame. The two had finally gotten together and like a bitch life came around to shatter it. 

Looking up from his phone he frowned. 

It was too long to be in a shower. Considering how much Drake complained a few minutes over an hour was too much passed time. Going over he knocked on the door again. When no one answered he listened to the water running. 

Reaching the handle he was surprised that it was unlocked. Opening it he looked inside only to see the shower running and Drake laying inside the tub, still in his pajamas. The water was still warm, they never ran out of hot water, part of the perks of being wealthy. 

“This isn’t what I mean,” 

“I’m in the water, okay?” 

“You need an actual shower. You cannot just lay in the tub like that,” 

“Watch me,” Tim huffed. “Just go away, Damian,” 

“Tt,” Damain sat down on the floor looking at him. “It’s not just depression. I know that much. However, I cannot think of what it could be. If we can figure it out we can get you med or whatever help you need,” 

“Medication isn’t going to help this Damian,” 

“Of course it will, how else do we always patch you up?” 

“Because it doesn't exist,” Ti sniffled. “There’s nothing that can cure a broken heart,” 

“That isn’t an illness,” Damian frowned. “It sounds made up,” 

“Google it,” 

Opening his phone Damian looked it up. He scrolled into the site he trusted, before hacking into a date base recording this ‘Broken Heart Syndrome’ cases. The more he researched the more he could see the matching symptoms Drake was displaying. A few minutes more he turned off his screen. 

“See? No cure,” Tim closed his eyes, “I just want to sleep,”

“You are going to wash up and then you are going to eat and then you can sleep,” 

“I’m not hungry,” 

“Too bad. You’re not going to start yourself,” Damian said. “Ten minutes, if you don’t wash but by then I’ll come and wash you myself.” 

“Whatever,” 

“I mean it,” 

“I know, I’ll be done,” Tim promised, as he sat up a little. “You don’t have to help me, you know,” 

“Tt,” Damian looked at his phone the last thing he read about people actually dying from this still leaving an unsettled lump in his stomach. “I know and you are still going to get it.” 

He would just have to try.


End file.
